


Oh God no,  or Where the many languages of Q began.

by rosiemadder



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, accidental crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:30:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosiemadder/pseuds/rosiemadder
Summary: Summary:Part of the 00Q reverse bangThis all started with Hanna's picture and prompthannars97 on tumblr:Prompt Name: Oh God NoQ is not MI6 AU.When Q can speak a lot of languages, and he always uses this to avoid socializing with other people( when people trying to open a conversation ,Q usually speaks back in another language so people stop speaking to him). Especially on an airplane, when Q always has to deal with dizziness.But one day, this irritating-but-irresistible man  knows what language Q is speaking ( James is bored and starts speaking with Q, Q speaks another language as always, James as a super awesome 007 knows a lot of languages so he replies with the language Q is speaking), so Q is forced to speak to him. at least just this once. Oh how wrong he is;;;; it happens again, again ,again, that Q start to speak normally to James.(also insert hijack the airplane, the two of them save the day.That's pretty much the summary.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HannaRS97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaRS97/gifts).



> Forgive the technical difficulties, I'm new to the whole big bang thing. I'm hoping the link to the art works.  
> Thanks to the lovely Venstar for the help in adding the art.  
> Also thanks so much to the lovely Springbok7 who was a wonderful last minute beta when it took me forever to get started. The very last draft of this was written like ten minutes ago, though so any errors are all mine. All proper use of ; and paragraphing are hers. Also I must admit the very descriptive passage about Q's hair is all hers as well. 
> 
> Also if you notice the accidental crossovers again forgive me they sort of happened. Also this takes place in my previous Many Languages of Q world. Its also the longest thing I've ever written, so yay me, but now you've got to read it, so yay you. Also this note may just end up being longer then the story. It might have something to do with the cold medication. Please enjoy.  
> Oops I almost forgot, thanks to The Nut without whom none of this would be possible.
> 
> I realized I completely forgot to thank my artist. I can't believe I did that. Without the amazing art, and beautiful prompt, this would not exist, so applause for the lovely HannaRS97.

 

Oh God No, or How the many languages of Q began.

  
  


Every great love story has a beginning.  Some are big epic beginnings, some are tiny infinitesimal moments, starting from little more than a shared glance.  Still others start with a shared knowledge of Klingon. This is not where our story starts, but where it ends.

 

Once upon a time before there was a quartermaster called Q there was a boy called Mowgli Zaphod Frodo Tiberius Smythe.  His parents were a little odd and couldn't decide between their favourite characters.  Mowgli was very glad they were able to shorten their list to just four names or he may have taken a few hours to introduce himself.  Mowgli was what his parents liked to call an odd little child.  He didn’t speak till he was four, because he said he didn’t have anything worthwhile to say.  He didn’t really make friends with the children around his house, and prefered to play by himself in the worlds he made in his head. Most of the children around him were unable to understand him at all.  

 

Besides being a little odd, Mowgli was smart, very, very smart.  While he didn’t talk for a long time, he was able to take apart most electronics and put them back together again by the time he was three.  At four he was correcting his father's computer coding.  When he started school, as all children had to, he unsurprisingly wasn’t very well socialized.  He didn’t really have time for the teachers who talked to him like he was only a child.  Well, ok, he was just a child, but that was a formality.  In his head he was the king of a technological wonder of a world.  When asked what his name was, he replied “Which name, I have five.”  A child standing off to the side also with wild hair and by himself, said “Five is an awfully odd name,” and from that moment the two odd children were inseparable, known as WilliamFive, as you couldn’t call one without the other.

 

As they grew older it became apparent that both boys were extremely smart.  And also extremely odd.  William saw everything, it was almost like he could read your mind.  Five could find out anything William didn’t know using a computer.  

 

When they were 7,  Five’s parents introduced them to Star Trek; William didn’t really understand the show, he thought it was silly and that the science didn’t make any sense at all.  Five however was entranced, he loved the new worlds the show opened up, and the fact that everyone no matter how different was accepted.  Unless they were Klingons, at least in the first series.  What William liked however were the languages that had been developed.  Although William could tell what Five wanted and was thinking just by looking at him, Five could not do the same.  William tried to teach him, but Five just didn’t have the ability to see what William could, at least not with people.  He could fix anything electronic by looking and listening, but people were not electronic.  So the languages of Star Trek opened up possibilities.  They both learned Klingon and Vulcan so they could talk to each other without having to explain anything to the others.  The others being anyone who wasn’t WilliamFive.

 

When Five was 12 he stopped talking.  His teachers were worried and tried to get Five’s parents to take him to a psychologist.  Five’s mother simply ignored them, saying he just didn’t have anything to say, at least not out loud.  Five’s mother merely learned sign language and taught it to WilliamFive who thought it was great fun, even though William didn’t need it to understand Five.  

 

When they were 14 WilliamFive had a competition to see who could learn the most languages.  They were determined to learn ALL the languages, even languages that might not be official languages.  They both managed to become fluent in a huge number of languages, Five however came out the winner when he learned Elvish from the world in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings.  William, genius that he was, just couldn’t wrap his head around Elvish.  

 

At 15 they both entered into university, and that was where things began to fall apart.  Not all love stories end well, and for all that WilliamFive loved each other and were almost like one person.  They were not.  They were two.

 

Five thrived at university, for all that he was weird, there were tonnes of weird people there.  Five made friends that were not William for the first time; he could talk tech with them, and build things with them.  William loved chemistry and could blow things up with Five, but even though he was good with computers, he just wasn’t the best.  William tried to fit in, but his head was filled with so much knowledge, especially of other people, and he still hadn’t discovered his filter, so although Five could get along with the other tech geeks, William just couldn’t.  People liked Five, people did not like William.  William turned to drugs to try and turn his brain off. Five didn’t want to turn his brain off, he liked his brain.  WilliamFive slowly turned into William and Five. Five realized he couldn’t fix William, he wasn’t sure anyone could; he also couldn’t watch his friend, his other half, kill himself, so he walked away.  

 

He changed schools and once again withdrew into himself; it hurt too much to get close to people.  He switched his name to Latin, and introduced himself as Quinque, not many people could pronounce it properly, so Quinque became Que.  Que mostly kept to himself and his computers.  He wrote in code the way Shakespeare wrote with words.  Que learned a lot in university, but realized most of it was stuff he taught himself; he was strides ahead of most of his professors even.  Que ended up with several degrees and a couple of doctorates in what was quite a short time.  He spoke more languages than most people knew existed.  He just didn’t really use them to talk to people, mostly just to isolate himself.  And that brings us to the present, and where our story really starts.

 

James Bond was bored.  He was awaiting his flight, which had been delayed.  No matter how much he charmed the Nice ladies at the airlines customer service desk,  they had no answer on when his plane would be boarding.  Some snow storm in North America was causing havoc on departures.  So as there was nothing else to do he was people-watching.  There were all sorts of interesting people at the airport.  Being a spy he knew what to look for to try and figure out people.  What they were doing, where they were going.  He liked to practice, and a time or two he was able to alert authorities to a “person of interest.”  He managed to quickly figure out the harassed-looking woman to his right was searching for her spoiled teenaged children, who sure enough had just showed up.  The businessman on his left was a bit harder to figure out, if he looked long enough James was sure he would determine what exactly his business was, something to do with bananas, he thought.  

 

Suddenly there was a raised voice;, he looked over and saw a beautiful man with amazingly wild hair being yelled at.  Surely the hair was the best thing James had seen in awhile, it almost seemed to have a life of its own, floating around his head like sea anemones: imagine the secrets that could be hidden in that hair, like reef-fish.  Anyway, what was more important was the woman who was shouting at the man, who seemed to be ignoring her.  She appeared to be attempting to get the man to move what looked like computer or electronic equipment out of the way.  

 

When the woman reached over to touch the man, he looked up from his tablet and made a series of hand gestures at the woman.  James realized the man was signing in a mixture of American and British sign language, which seemed a little odd, but the woman just looked extremely bewildered, and mouthed sorry and pointed to the equipment with some exaggerated hand gestures, that James was sure meant nothing, and went back to harassing other passengers about this thing or that thing.  James moved on to studying other people, coming back occasionally to the wild-haired man; there was just something there, something that was intriguing and a little odd.  He didn’t seem to be dangerous, just interesting, so James didn’t worry about it, and went in search of a bar, he really needed a scotch.  As he walked through the airport he noticed The Banana Salesman again, he still seemed to be looking for something.  He didn’t seem to be following James though, so he simply but the man out of his thoughts.

 

Q hated airports.  The incessant noise of people all around who would not be quiet.  It was very distracting, especially when he had a migraine.  It happened often when he was stressed about something, or hadn’t had enough sleep, which was an ongoing problem. There was just so much coding that needed to be done, so many machines that had to be built, sleep was overrated, except when he had a migraine.  

 

Looking up, he noticed the woman who must have been shouting at him for awhile, something about moving some of the electronics that seemed to be blocking the aisle.  By the look of her, she had been talking to him for some time, but he really wasn’t in the mood to get into it; his head hurt, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone.  He started to sign at her, a mixture of nonsense and words, just in case she knew some sign language. He wanted it to seem to be a different version, so that she would just leave him alone.  Sure enough it worked, she made sweeping movements with her hand towards his baggage and wandered away mouthing sorry. Q just moved his bags and went back to ignoring the others around him, trying to block out the noise. 

 

He did however take a moment to notice the attractive blond man who seemed to be studying him.  Q thought he looked familiar, but could not place him.  Q went back to his tablet, he was sure given enough time, and maybe some sleep, it would come to him.

 

James had found the bar, it wasn’t that hard, and as his flight still seemed to be on indefinite hold, he sat down to have a scotch or two.  He noticed THe Banana Salesman sitting a few seats down from him, and watched him for a bit. He was talking quietly but intently into his phone; he seemed to be getting more and more agitated till he downed his drink and angrily walked out of the lounge.  James began to wonder just what his deal was, it seemed a little odd, but then the man with the hair showed up and asked the bartender for a glass of water, in clear English. It appeared he wasn’t deaf at all.  James decided to move to a farther corner of the bar and watch.  The man was getting more and more interesting by the minute.  

 

He watched the man, who he was calling The Hair in his head, take his glass and move to a table. He still had all his equipment with him, so it was a bit of a production, but he managed.  The Hair took a small pill bottle out of his messenger bag and swallowed three of the pills with his water.  James recognized it as migraine medication, M had the same bottle.  He always said dealing with agents gave him a permanent headache.  The Hair put the pill bottle away and pulled out his ever-present tablet and began to type away.  

 

James sat with his scotch and watched.  It was fascinating to observe the expressions that crossed The Hair’s face as his fingers nimbly moved over the screen.  James noticed two loud Americans walk into the bar, eyeing the inhabitants who were already seated.  They seemed to be on the prowl, he supposed there were worse places to try and pick someone up.  Sadly neither of them were his type; it would have made a good distraction while waiting for his plane.  When the eyes of one of the newcomers landed on The Hair, James thought this could get interesting.  After what seemed to be a fortifying drink, the larger of the two men walked over to The Hair, and asked him if the empty seat at his table was free, and would it be ok if he sat down.  The Hair looked at him, as if searching for something and answered in German, saying he didn’t speak English.  The American looked at him and said, in English, that he didn’t understand.  The Hair replied, “Das ist zu schlecht, ich bin ein Eichhörnchen.”, the American looking defeated went back to his chair.

 

Que was quite abruptly brought out of his coding by a slightly sleazy looking man yammering at him.  His migraine was still drilling into his head and he really, really didn’t want to be bothered by the idiot in front of him.  He didn’t look like the type that would speak anything other than “American”.  Quickly he decided on German.  Even after that the man seemed to not get the message. So Que thought up something ridiculous that sounded harsh.  Squirrel was such a harsh sounding word.  Que loved the German language.

 

Very interesting, James thought to himself.  Over the course of the next few hours, the scene played out a few more times.  The Hair was very pretty and seemed to garner a lot of attention he really didn’t look like he wanted.  There was the Danish woman The Hair answered in Spanish, the French couple he replied to in Russian, and the British gentleman who tried English and then Portuguese to which he responded to with Mandarin.  James wondered just how many languages The Hair knew.  

 

Next James saw The Banana salesman walk up to The Hair, but he seemed to think better of it when The Hair raised a sarcastic eyebrow at the man, who quickly wandered the other way looking around as if he were searching for someone or something, trying to look, James imagined, as if he hadn't really been heading towards The Hair.  James was amused the man with The Hair even seemed to be fluent in body language, at least the stay-away-from-me type, if the actions of The Banana Salesman was any indication.

 

Que heard someone clearing his throat and looked up to see the blond from earlier looking at him with interest.  Oh no, not another one, he thought; despite the medication, his migraine was still stubbornly hanging on.  The man said something to him in English, Que shook his head; then the man tried again in Spanish, German, French and something even Que didn’t understand.  He wracked his brain for something to say that the man wouldn’t understand, at a loss he opened his mouth and “'jang loSmaH cha'" came out.  Without batting an eye, the blond man took a second and replied “ nuq 'oH yu'.”

 

James looked at The Hair with confusion.  What in the world was that language?  Wait, James realized he actually knew that one, thanking Alec in his head for making him learn Klingon one drunken week in Minsk. Now that was a memory, but back to The Hair. James continued to look a little confused, even though he thought he understood what The Hair was saying he couldn’t figure out what forty two had to do with anything.  He then remembered Moneypenny giving him  _ The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy _ the previous month.  And had his answer, or rather his question.

 

Que was a bit flustered when he  realized he couldn’t hide behind his languages.  It wasn’t often his languages weren’t able to create barriers between him and the outside world.  What were the odds that the man in front of him knew Klingon.  He switched to English, and explained to the man leaning against the table beside his, Bond, James Bond as he introduced himself, that he just wasn’t feeling social.

 

James asked him if it was the migraine, Que replied that yes, it was the noise of the airport.

James fished in his bag and pulled out a pair of headphones, state of the art noise-cancelling headphones, he had for his mission and handed them to Que.  Que thanked him, then made cooing noises at the headphones; he didn’t recognise the technology, but he did recognise the genius that had gone into the design.  He offered his name to James, who took the odd name in stride and sat down with Que, and drank his scotch in silence.  Que was charmed and sat with the headphones on, listening to. . . well, nothing, it was grand.  They sat in silence until Que suddenly realized where he knew the blond from.  “ghoqwI'! British!”

 

James had finally realized where he knew the young man from.  It had taken him awhile to place him, Q (after all Que hadn’t actually spelled his name out, so James had taken Que to simply be Q) usually had his hair covered with an ugly beanie.  He worked for the tech branch of one of the security firms that did contract work for MI6.  That was the reason he didn’t mind giving the young man the headphones, he knew the firm had clearance that extended to all its employees.  When the young man suddenly exclaimed "spy", James was a little alarmed, looking around him to see who might have heard. He realized quickly however that it had been in Klingon and there was probably no one in the bar who had understood.  James nodded his head at the young man.  He downed his drink and asked Q if he would like to move this to a quieter area.  Q nodded.

 

Que gathered up his bags and followed James to a quiet area in the airport he hadn’t realized was there.  He was thankful, the pills and the headphones had done their work, his head no longer felt like it was going to explode, and the quiet nook meant that he would be safe for now, at least until he got on the plane.  God, he hated planes, the noise of the engines that he could read like a book knowing when something didn’t sound quite right, and not being able to fix it at 10,000 metres in the air.  Also the motion made him dizzy, but for now he was in the quiet, and with James who seemed to be enjoying his company, even if he did go on about his latest inventions.  Que had made sure that the area was free of any ears other than their own.  No bugs, no busy bodies in sight, or in hearing.  So Que was free to talk about his inventions, and his next job for MI6, which coincidently coincided with James' trip abroad.  They were both going to the British embassy in Ontario and providing security for a big party happening that weekend.  Que was able to talk to James so easily, it was almost like having William back.  James may not have been at the same genius level as Que or William, but he was funny, and snarky, and sarcastic, and just plain fun.  Without quite realizing what he was doing, Que had hacked into the airport servers and made sure James was seated next to him on the plane.  After all if he was going to sit for several hours next to a stranger, it may as well be one he liked, one who wasn’t in fact, really a stranger.

  
  


********

As they finally boarded the plane Que was starting to second guess his decision to move James to the seat next to him.  Quite frankly James was a very touchy feely person.  Que was not.  As he did in most situations where he was uncomfortable he decided to remove himself from the offending, well, the offending James, by falling asleep.  After all he had been up for the last 24 hours or so, at least.  Sleeping would help pass the time, and hopefully stop the touching.

 

James noticed Q nodding off and the younger man slowly tipped towards James.  James being the gentleman he was, moved so that Q was leaning against him, with James’ arm around the man.  James got comfortable, and his thoughts moved towards the upcoming mission.  He didn’t realize he was playing with Q’s hair, almost petting him like a cat.

 

Que woke up, he wasn’t sure how long after, with his head on James shoulder.  He noticed he may have drooled a bit.  How mortifying.  Equally mortifying, his hand seemed to be tangled with James' hand that was wrapped around his shoulder.  James didn’t seem to be bothered however, and really despite still being quite mortified, Que was actually comfortable, he didn’t feel the need really to move.  For the first time in a long time Que was ok with physical contact with another person.  He felt more like himself, like his old weird confident self, he wasn’t just waking up to a stranger on a plane, he was waking up to someone he wanted to actually talk to.  When James asked him if he’d had a good sleep, it was easy for Que to reply yes.  They began to converse again, not really talking about anything important, but Que thought it was the most fun he’d had in, well, a very long time.  At least the most fun that involved another person, another live person.

 

James was sitting next to Q, with his arm wrapped around the younger man's shoulder.  He noticed the strange banana salesman again.  The man was walking up the aisle rapidly looking around, seeming to search for something.  His eyes lit up and he bent down to pick something up.  Hiding it from view, the man looked around furtively as he placed the mystery item under the seat of the child sitting a few rows up from Bond. A few minutes later another man came back from the washrooms passing where the mystery item had been, his face looking distressed as he noticed the item had been moved. James became concerned, what could be in the package.  He alerted Q to what was happening in sign language, so as not to alert the subjects. 

 

Que took out his laptop and began to pull up his facial recognition program, running the two men through his software.  Nothing relevant showed up.  Both men seemed to be just your average businessman.  They seemed to work for the same international import/export company.  Specializing in fruit, Que laughed to himself, James was correct, he  _ was _ a banana salesman, of a sort.  He told James this and he smirked.  James said it was still odd behavior and that he would check it out.  Que watched as James moved towards the seat ahead of him.  James leaned down to talk to the child in the seat above the item.  Que saw James knock the child's crayons off the tray.  He quickly bent down and picked them up, Que noticed the puzzled look on James’ face as he stood up and walked back to their seats. “Q, can you weaponize a banana?”  Q looked at him and asked what he meant.  Just as he did, the second man walked down the aisle again and with a triumphant grin quickly bent down, and picked up what Q realized must have been the offending fruit.  Giggling he turned back to James saying I'm sure I could weaponize a banana, but I don't think you have to worry, they are playing the traveling lemon, or I suppose the traveling banana.”

James listened as Q explained how the travelling banana worked.  He was quite amused and watching where the businessman put the banana, he decided to join in on the game.  He nodded to the businessman as he picked up the banana.  He and Q enjoyed the rest of the flight playing hide and seek with the men and the banana.  James actually thought to himself it sounded slightly dirty, but he liked dirty.

 

When the plane landed Que and James went through customs, quite quickly which was nice, but also a bit disappointing as it meant Que’s time with James was coming to an end.  Certainly he would see him around the embassy, and probably around London, but it had been a long time since he had enjoyed someone’s company enough to miss them.  But Que, being Que, didn’t really know what to do about it.  So he simply bid James goodbye at the taxi stand and headed towards his hotel.  Que wasn’t used to feeling lonely, especially when he had his coding and his inventions.  So he tried to lose himself in the joy of a string of 1s and 0s, and forget about the interesting and attractive spy that had somehow made himself at home in Que’s head.

James was surprised when Q simply said goodbye and headed off in a cab, to what James assumed was his hotel.  He wasn’t used to anyone not noticing his attempts to pick them up.  He realized Q was not like his normal conquests.  A little more clueless perhaps, but definitely more interesting.  Something about the genius had James wanting to spend much more time with him, clothing optional.  James surprisingly realized however, that he was just as happy to spend time with Q and clothes, it had been awhile since he was interested in a person for more than just their body.  He watched Q’s taxicab head off into the distance wondering when he might cross paths with the young man again.  

 

Laughing and shaking his head, he remembered he was in fact a spy, and could just search out the man, it couldn’t be too hard to find out where he was staying.  James started to plot how to get close to the other man.  He wondered whether flowers would be a good idea.  Probably better off with a flash drive or something like that.  No matter, James would figure it out.  He may not often want more then a quick fling with someone, but when he found a person who could be important he didn’t believe in wasting time.  He was far too familiar with how short life and relationships could be. He’d find a way to clue Q into his interest. 

Que looked at the clock and realized it was getting late, he probably should leave his room in search of food; he was actually craving some sort of human contact, thanks to James his long buried need for social contact was rearing its ugly head.  He grabbed his tablet and the headphones he had never bothered to give back to James, and headed to the hotel bar.  He may have been craving social contact but that didn’t mean he actually wanted to talk to anyone.  

 

Sitting at the bar he ordered a tea and some soup by pointing at the menu.  It was easier not to talk, if he could make himself understood.  Closing his eyes, he sat back enjoying the soup and the music.  He managed to sit in peace for awhile, most people ignoring him and his headphones.  That was until someone sat beside him and tapped him on the shoulder.  Que sighed and pulled off his headphones, ready to quickly size up the person next to him and choose a language they were unlikely to speak.  That was until the man in the suit handed him a bouquet of flowers, and said “mInDu'wIjvaD neH SoH chal loD 'IH”  Que couldn’t quite figure it out, it sounded like beautiful man heaven and earth.

James saw Q’s quizzical expression and realized his Klingon was probably rusty, he repeated in English: “Beautiful flowers for a lovely man”.  Q blushed, and James handed the flowers to the startled young man.  They were not easy to find, but at least they did grow them in Ontario, a bit out of season, but just perfect.  The other flowers in the arrangement he had to have help with, he didn’t speak flower, but he was sure Q did.

Que looked at the arrangement and saw the Starship Enterprise Iris’ at the center, surrounded by yellow roses, and pansies.  A few bachelor buttons were thrown in, with some forget me nots.  It was an odd assortment, but Que understood what James was trying to say, yellow roses for friendship, the bachelor buttons for anticipation of pansies turning the friendship towards loving thoughts. The forget me nots of course to hope that Que would not forget James.  Que looked over to James and said, “I think we have the friendship, I wouldn’t be adverse to the loving”.  Que placed his tablet in the inner pocket of his jumper and took the bouquet with one hand, and with the other he grabbed James’ hand and led the spy to his hotel room.

And this, my friends, is where we leave our lovers.  The story continues, but the tale of the beginning of a great love must end somewhere.  Where the beginning becomes the rest of their lives is as good a place as any.  Que would eventually become simply Q; to everyone, not just James, he would become the beloved quartermaster of MI6.  He would bring all his agents home as safely as he could with his tech and his words in their ears.  Only one, however, would he make his home with.  Q and James became a legend at MI6 with respect to how relationships could work.  Q was still odd, but he had James who understood him on so many levels, and in so many languages, as well as the friends that came with James, a new family of sorts.  Eve, and Alec, and of course the minions.  The adventures Q and James have with their new family are stories for a different day.  The story is not over by any stretch of the imagination, but the beginning is at an end.

The End

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Quinque - five in latin Das ist zu schlecht, ich bin ein Eichhörnchen - German for That's too bad, I'm a squirrel  
> . 'jang loSmaH cha' - Klingon roughly means The answer is forty two.  
> nuq 'oH yu' - Klingon, roughly Whats the question?  
> ghoqwI'! British - British Spy!  
> mInDu'wIjvaD neH SoH chal loD 'IH - Klingon for Beautiful flowers for a lovely man  
> . All of the above from google translate (except the German thank Springbok7)


End file.
